


he told me I was holy

by jdphoenix



Series: terragenesis [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7106449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One rotation of the universe before Jemma lands on Maveth, she meets the Inhuman who lives there.</p><p> <b>Updated 10/6 with chapter <i>five</i>.</b> As it takes place prior to the events of chapter six. (I knew that big time jump was gonna bite me.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. at first sight

**Author's Note:**

> The first two chapters here were drabbles originally posted on tumblr, but since their posting the universe has gotten kind of ... bigger. As of right now (three chapters in) these take place in chronological order, all within the span of the main events of "yesterday's ahead of me" and hopefully that will remain the case but muses are weird so keep an eye on chapter notes.
> 
> Title from Halsey's "Hold Me Down."

When called, he comes. No hesitation. No sign of annoyance or dissent. He is their perfect soldier.

(One day, he will burn the flesh from their bones.)

He arrives, as ordered, in the hall outside the infinity room. That alone would have him suspecting the identity of the pale woman waiting beside the master there, but when he sees her, he knows she can be no one else but the goddess.

He has heard much of this woman in the past weeks from those who brought her to the city and those who are tasked with guarding her, but this is the first time Alveus has seen her for himself. She is thin and worn by the weeks of torture she has endured, but her bearing is still proud, her chin strong and sure. And then there is her entire being. Men and women from every corner of the world have been brought here to further the masters’ experiments, but none are like her. 

Alveus’ mother used to tell him stories of gods in the mountains and the storms, who were like men but so _perfect_ as to be frightful to look upon. Looking on her, he can easily see why the northmen took her for a deity.

“You have heard of our guest,” the master waiting beside her says, her voice curling cruelly around the final word. 

The goddess startles, her eyes flying to him. They narrow and her frown deepens and then- 

She steps back. Not far, but enough that the master lifts a hand to stop her from going farther. Alveus holds his ground where he is, wondering what he has done to cause a woman unafraid of the masters to fear him.

The master regards her as though she were one of the animals they still experiment on. “The clairvoyant-” the masters will not call her a goddess and so have given her another name, as they do all those they bring here- “has given us all she knows that we care to. Now she will serve another purpose.”

There is something in the way the master’s hand brushes down the goddess’s hair that causes Alveus’ gut to twist in fearful anticipation. She has not been made new as he and all the rest have; do the masters intend for him to preside over her remaking?

“She is as you once were,” the master goes on, unaware of Alveus’ worries, “but with ten thousand years of natural selection in her veins. We would like to see what comes of an advancement such as hers joining with an advancement of our own making.”

The goddess does not react in the slightest and he wonders if she considers this all so far beneath her that she will not or if perhaps she does not understand what the master means.

“An intriguing prospect,” Alveus says, all polite deference. The goddess tenses at the sound of his voice. Perhaps she knew already. Perhaps they made her aware of why she was being brought to him and she has had time to make herself cold to it, to him.

The master pushes her forward, into his arms, with little effort. The goddess is stiff and still, as if afraid to touch him even to push away. 

“Take her. You may retire one sun-measure early today and every day until she is with child.” The master leaves, finished with them.

Once they are alone, Alveus steps away. She watches him warily from the corner of her eye but makes no sign to run. He turns and walks to the end of the hall. She remains where she is.

“Come,” he orders. And then, when her shoulders tense, again more gently. “ _Come_ ,” he says with his hand raised to beckon her.

Slowly she does as asked, but shies towards the wall so that he cannot touch her without stretching out his arm. He drops it and sets to a slow pace to his cell.

It is well-appointed. Water flows from the walls and the bed is softer than if it were stuffed with feathers and the room itself is larger than the shack he was born in, but for all of that there is still the door that only opens so long as the masters grant him the privilege.

She seems to realize as much, for she will not go through it ahead of him and in the end he is forced to drag her through at his side, after which she scampers away to a far corner. 

Her wide eyes take in every corner, never quite landing on him.

Annoyed - more at the circumstances than at her - he strips off the stiff, heavy outer garments the masters force on them all more violently than he should and falls to the edge of the bed. He rests his chin in his palms and considers her.

Her beauty, he thinks again, is almost inhuman; the masters could have done worse than to give him to her. 

He doubts she is of a similar mind.

He sighs. “We should be done with it,” he says, hoping she will understand he is no more pleased by the order than she is. He shifts to one side and rests a hand on the blankets in a way he hopes she sees as inviting. “Let us make the best of it.”

Her eyes narrow again but the fear and hatred that was in them before is muted now. She speaks. He doesn’t understand a word.

“You don’t understand what I’m saying,” he says slowly.

She opens her arms to shrug them in agreement.

“Wonderful,” he sighs and drags his hands down his face.

That will make things a bit more difficult. If they cannot speak, how is she to tell him-

The answer presents itself so readily he’d almost suspect the masters chose him for just this reason - except they are not nearly so kind. He reaches inward, to the parts of himself that are yet newly born, and opens his mind up to her. He allows her to feel his sympathy and regret and kindness while he approaches and, in return, he feels her mind. It is as inhuman as the rest of her, turning and spinning faster than he can track. But on the surface he can read easily enough her hesitation and fear and-

She scampers away when he would touch her, disgust and hate burning bright. Her eyes shut tightly and she clutches her head as if to claw him out; she wants his mind in hers even less than she wants _him_ in her.

He pulls back, not all the way but enough that she will feel him as little more than a whisper of emotion. Her disgust ebbs, but the fear remains.

He is a good soldier. He follows orders whenever given without question or hesitation. He has done unspeakable things, disgusting things, things that haunt his every waking moment solely because he was ordered to. (And one day he will make the masters feel the indignity of each and every one before he allows them to die.) But he cannot follow this one.

He will not force her into his bed, take her screaming and terrified night after night, no matter that the masters have demanded it. 

He didn’t know he had a line, after all that he has done for them. It’s a frightening thought.

Her eyes open in surprise when the bed shifts under his weight. He meets her gaze for long seconds, long enough for the curiosity bubbling up from between all her moving parts to lighten his spirits, and then lies down. He rolls to face the nearest edge of the bed, leaving her plenty of space should she choose to join him, and he pretends to sleep. 

 


	2. terragenesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written and posted over on tumblr in response to the prompt "caring for each other while ill."

She hits the ground and a million hurts spark to life up and down her body. Her _bones_ hurt. Her _cells_ hurt. Every inch of her has been stretched and pulled and reshaped and put back together so that her body no longer feels like her own anymore. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, which would make the slamming of the cell door funny if the sound of it didn’t reverberate through her.

But of course that’s not for her, it’s for the body that moves slowly out of the shadows - or she imagines he does, she can’t exactly look to be sure, state she’s in.

It would be too much to hope they’d throw her in a different cell after, one where she could be alone to lick her wounds. Still, she did hope and now she’s forced to face the familiar feeling of doom. 

And thoughts like those only make her think of Will and she sobs as her fellow prisoner pulls her into his lap. His hands are gentle, soothing, utterly at odds with the sort of man she knows him to be, the man he will be. A wave of sympathy washes over her and he mutters words she doesn’t understand. 

The translation device their keepers fit her with is only allotted her when they decide she has need of it - and they certainly don’t think she needs it here. What is the point in conversing to the man they intend on her _mating_ with? 

Apology follows the sympathy and his fingers card slowly through her sweat-soaked hair. Their only communication here is through his powers, limited to feelings and emotions carried via some sort of mental link. She should hate it, but it’s the most comfort she has in this world.

She moves her legs, trying to find a less painful position and stiffens as new pain knifes through her. He holds her, wrapping double around her to anchor her through it.

Daisy never mentioned it being like this and neither did Lincoln when she peppered him with endless questions about terragenesis. In fact she distinctly remembers Daisy walking out of the alien city - _this_ city, she reminds herself - less than an hour after her transformation; Jemma can’t imagine being able to walk again this _year_.

An image of their keepers flits through her mind and it’s only the warm hands on her face that prevent her from physically jerking away. If she’d thought the Kree who attempted to kill Daisy was bad, the ones who originated the Inhumans are far, far worse.

The image is followed swiftly by impressions of violence, retribution. He bends to press his forehead to hers and she understands he’s promising to destroy them for the pain they’ve caused her.

She knows what he will become: the monster whose existence breeds one of the worst movements in all of human history, the banner carried by an organization that’s nearly killed her a dozen times, the creature that tormented her and killed the man she loved and will, possibly, kill her friends. But here and now, thousands of years before any of that will happen, she makes the effort to lift her arm so that she can hold the back of his neck and pull herself up for a kiss.

He melts into it with a heavy sort of relief and she wonders briefly if the Kree are wrong. They assumed he didn’t want her because she wasn’t like him but, though that’s been remedied, the emotion he pours into her speaks of a protracted longing. Perhaps he was only honoring _her_ refusal of _him_.

And that’s an odd thought: the worst monster she’s ever known putting her own feelings ahead of his.

She doesn’t want to think about that or about the future she’s no longer a part of, so she allows her worries and fears to slip away and sets to drowning herself in the man who is her only comfort in this hellish prehistory.

 


	3. pestilence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over on tumblr, lillysbitchfest asked for Jemma learning about her new powers.

There's never any telling what to expect from the Kree - the last time Jemma was summoned before them they augmented her DNA with their own, leaving her a writhing mess of pain on the floor - and so Jemma reassures herself there's no shame in holding Alveus' hand so tight as they walk the halls. She has every right to be afraid of what's waiting for them.

(She has no such excuse for the kiss she gave him three nights ago and, as such, is trying very hard not to think about it.)

Even though they've both been given translation devices, he comforts her with a soothing pressure inside her skull rather than words spoken aloud. She walks a little closer to him, grateful she doesn't have to face her torturers alone.

A female Kree is waiting for them in what Jemma supposes is a lab. She was taken to one like it briefly after they'd gotten all the answers they cared to out of her about the future. They scanned her and took samples of fluids and tissue, never caring at all when she cried out in pain.

Alveus uses his free hand to take her arm above her elbow. His grip is near tight enough to bruise, but it grounds her, preventing her from getting lost in her terrified thoughts.

"Ah, much better," the Kree says, eyes sharp on their joined hands. She looks to Alveus. "You could have told us you were too proud to take her while she was still human, we would have augmented her weeks ago."

She turns away in time to miss Jemma's pained twitch. Alveus presses his lips to her hair and she feels a cool fire run along her nerves. Once he seizes his moment, this Kree will die like all the rest - screaming.

The promise - as well as the rage simmering behind it - should terrify her, but Jemma only leans into him gratefully.

The Kree opens a hatch on the wall and Jemma's heart drops as she drags out a mess of gangly limbs; they've been keeping a _person_ in that tiny hole. The sympathy she's feeling for the poor human who's been trapped for who-knows-how-long triples when the Kree drops him onto the hard floor.

"Drahg," Jemma says in shock. The boy gapes at her from beneath his head of wayward hair and then, in the blink of an eye, is wrapped around her legs, crying into her stomach.

"Goddess!" he wails. He says more, but after that first word, the translation device struggles to keep up with his sobbing babble. It catches snatches of words and phrases - "killed," "invaders," "caught on fire" - but nothing she can truly make sense of.

She drops to her knees, pulling him into a proper hug to shush him. "This is Drahg," she says to Alveus once the explanations have stopped, "he lived in the village that found me." The Kree stands beside one of her computers, head tipped to one side as she observes. As she makes no move to interfere in the reunion, Jemma chooses to ignore her. "He gave me bread," she says brightly. She presses down Drahg's mess of hair and pushes him back to smile at him. "Do you remember that?" The last word comes out as a croak when she sees Drahg's face.

Angry, red spots have sprung up beneath a sheen of sweat. The boy wavers in Jemma's arms and it's only thanks to Alveus' quick hands that he doesn't crack his head on the metal floor.

"Drahg!" Jemma cries. His eyes are half-shut, pupils blown. His mouth hangs limply open and he's begun shaking.

"Oh, _very_ nice," the Kree says, sounding pleased. "Much faster than anticipated."

"What did you do to him?" Jemma demands even as she tries to cushion Drahg's head on her knees.

"Nothing," the Kree says, sounding surprised. " _You_ did this."

"What?" Jemma asks, utterly confused. Beside her, Alveus has gone still as stone.

The Kree approaches them, wielding one of the scanners. "You didn't wonder how we'd changed you?" she asks, a hint of laughter in her voice as Drahg's heartbeat slows under Jemma's fingers. "By our estimates, you've produced almost a dozen never before seen pathogens since your transformation. We've had to clear out your entire wing of the city to prevent the other subjects from contracting anything they can't survive - a very prudent decision, as it turns out."

Jemma can hear her own heart pounding in her ears, an echoing drum so much stronger than the faint jumps beneath her fingers, but she can't _feel_ it. She could swear her chest has been hollowed out, her heart removed.

The scanner in the Kree's hand beeps and her mouth pulls down. "Pity. We could have learned more from a vivisection."

"No!" Jemma screams. She grasps Drahg's face in her hands and begs him to wake up. He's a _child_. He shouldn't have to die so soon, shouldn't be abducted by aliens or experimented on or _cut open_ to see what's killed him.

They know what's killed him. It was _her_ and she can't think past that fact; it sits at the forefront of her thoughts, too big to be ignored.

Alveus' hands wrap around her shoulders, pulling her away from the body. She tries to fight him, to hold Drahg tight, but Alveus is stronger than she realized and soon she's held close against his side.

"Master?" he asks, his tone distant and almost cold.

"Go," the Kree says, gesturing dismissively. She pulls herself from her examination of the readings long enough to throw them a lecherous smile. "See if you can't better her mood. She should be rewarded for this."

Jemma stiffens but Alveus only nods respectfully and drags her away. He walks quickly, not slowing even when she tries to put her foot down and _stop_ , only for a moment. She can't make him stop and she can't keep going and she can't- she can't-

"I killed him," she says.

Alveus' hand tightens on her arm and he, impossibly, picks up his pace. How can he still be holding onto her like this after what he just saw her do? How can he be _alive_?

"You," she says, eyes fixing on his profile. His face is set in stern lines and it isn't hard at all to remember right now just what he is.

At their room, she uses the momentum of turning into the doorway to break away from him and he lets her go without a fight.

"You!" she yells. "Why is it _always_ you?"

He ignores her, choosing instead to close the door, locking her in, trapping her with him. Just like on the planet when he _stole her chance at freedom_. Will would still be alive if they'd only be able to make it across the gorge, if Alveus hadn't  _murdered_ him when Fitz came.

She hits him. She plants her feet and closes her fist the way May taught her and hits him so hard in the jaw she feels the impact all the way into her shoulder.

He falls against the door and she doesn't kid herself that she's really hurt him. He _let_ her force him back and that's worse than if he'd stood his ground.

She lifts a hand to hit him again and he lifts his in defense. "Jemma," he says, still unable to say her name properly. Something like a sob breaks from her throat; she had actually begun growing fond of his mangling of it. Isn't that a joke?

She beats his chest, knowing it won't do him any real damage but having to do _something_. "Why do you _always_ survive when everyone else _dies_? _Why?_ "

She's crying, can feel the tears falling into her mouth, down her chin, dripping onto her arms.

She drops her hands and backs up. She hates him. She hates him for Will and for Daisy and for everyone else he's ever hurt, everyone he ever will hurt.

"You're a monster," she says. She regrets using the word to describe Ward now; bad as he was, he cannot possibly compare to the creature standing in front of her.

Alveus' eyes are hollow when they fall on her. "I know." He pushes up from the door and she backs away, eager to keep the space between them. "But you don't," he says heavily. "You have no idea how much of a monster I am."

She laughs. She has more idea than he realizes. She wishes, suddenly, that the Kree hadn't forgotten to take back the translation devices, then he'd be reading her mind right now and know _exactly_ how monstrous he will become.

"What you did back there," he says slowly, "that wasn't your fault. You're strong, you'll learn to control it."

She wraps her arms over her chest, hating him even more for saying exactly what she needed to hear.

"But I-" He smiles sadly. "You haven't seen what they did to me yet, not all of it."

"I've seen plenty," she says, backing away.

"No." He holds up his hand, stalling her steps. "They want us to-" He looks away and she follows his eyes to the bed. "I won't until you know."

"You will _never_ ," she growls. She never should have let him touch her at all, never should have taken comfort in him. She was weak and scared and she knows better. She won't make that mistake _ever_ again.

He nods, seeming to accept that. "I still want you to know."

There's something so sad in the statement that it robs her of some of her anger, enough that she actually feels for him at his next words.

"This is what I looked like before, but it's an illusion, a lie. I- I keep it up because I frighten the others - and I will frighten you."

She lifts her chin - he _won't_ \- and he sighs, resigned. Slowly his features seem to melt together, the color of his skin darkens and his hair disappears entirely, replaced by-

Opaque eyes stare at her from a face that is so utterly inhuman she wonders if this is why they took the name. But that's only a passing thought, the one at the fore of her mind is much stronger and has her backing into the bed so it can catch her when her giggles overpower her.

He cocks his head at her in clear confusion and that only makes it worse. The _tentacles_! They keep _moving_. And all she can think of is that bloody HYDRA symbol and how it makes so much more sense now.

She laughs herself right off the bed and that only has her laughing harder.

"Jemma?" Alveus is in front of her, hands hovering like he's afraid of touching her. He's himself again - or not himself; he's the more human-looking version at any rate - and he's looking terribly concerned.

"I'm fine," she says even though she's not. She's Inhuman. She breeds pathogens capable of snuffing out a human life in _seconds_ and she doesn't know how to make it stop. And she's dangerously close to caring about Alveus.

His gaze is intense on her for a moment, intense enough to steal her breath away and make her think of the kisses they shared the last time they were on this floor. She shouldn't have done that, but why not? Because he's going to be a monster? Because he's going to take Will from her? He hasn't done those things yet and doesn't she deserve to take some comfort from him? Doesn't he owe her that at least?

He turns away and lifts his hand to his ear and the translation device still fixed there. "I should return these. It will … please them." How he feels about giving the Kree any pleasure is as apparent as the fact that he's only doing it to give her space.

She catches his hand, pulling it away from his ear before he can remove the device. "Stay," she says.

There's hope in his eyes and she feels guilty for putting it there. Whatever he feels for her, she doesn't feel the same for him; she's only using him. Nothing more.

She drops his hand and settles her shoulders back more comfortably against the bed. "I haven't had a real conversation in _ages_ ," she says, "and I like being able to really talk to you."

He smiles and sits down himself to oblige her.

They talk until the sun has long since set and she's forgotten all about the question of which of them is more a monster.

 


	4. come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shineyma prompted a shoulder kiss for these two.

Jemma sits on the edge of the bed, hands fisted at her sides. Alveus paces ahead of her, so distraught he’s even dropped the illusion of his human face.

The masters have finished their experiments here on Earth - or at least come far enough with them that they’re ready to move on to the next phase: invasion of alien worlds.

Jemma can’t let go of the bed or she’ll start shaking again, the same way she did when the masters told them. Alveus - the most vicious of their creations, they called him, and she could kill them for that - will lead the first wave, while Jemma will test her powers on any prisoners he captures. They’re eager to learn if she can kill aliens as easily as she can humans. She thinks she might be sick.

Tomorrow the first ships will leave, which means tomorrow will be the moment Alveus has been waiting for. And, to be honest, the moment she has been waiting for.

Her once strident belief that all life is precious has fallen to the wayside in recent months. If she had to choose between a Grant Ward and a Kree, she’d choose Ward’s life, worthless as it is, without a moment’s hesitation. And while she isn’t looking forward to the bloodshed and death waiting for them tomorrow, she won’t regret it.

She does regret Alveus’ agitation though. It’s only natural, as he’s been planning for this day since long before she arrived in this time period, but it’s also damning. There’s every chance the masters might look in on them in the night and notice him acting so out of sorts. Even if they don’t become suspicious, they might take precautions against his nerves ruining the launch, precautions that would in all likelihood prevent him from stopping it.

He needs to calm down, to be distracted until it’s time to act. And so does she.

“ _Lohme_ ,” she says, carefully echoing the first word he ever spoke to her, his order that she come with him.

Caught up in his thoughts as he is, he doesn’t seem to hear her.

“Alveus,” she says sharply, rising to her feet as she does so. His name or the movement or both catch his attention. He turns, his dark eyes looking almost guilty. “ _Lohme_ ,” she repeats gently, stepping closer.

He remains frozen as she pulls open the front of the absurd suits the masters make them wear. It looks like some space age suit, the kind astronauts wear in films that are more concerned with aesthetics than scientific accuracy. Maybe they are good for space travel, maybe they’ve been forced to wear these to prepare them for when they’ll have to. But for right here on Earth, the material is thick and stiff and far more work than its worth.

Confusion falls over her and she feels his question of what she thinks she’s doing. She answers without words or even emotions sent back along their mental connection. She pulls the suit down his shoulder and bends to press her lips against the exposed skin.

She can feel him shaking despite his efforts to hold himself still. Most of him, anyway. One of his tentacles curls along her cheek before she moves lower, following the line of newly exposed skin as her hands continue undressing him. He’s so frightened, like a rabbit in its hutch. The big, bad Inhuman and all it takes is a few touches, a kiss here and there, and he can barely stand. The masters’ most vicious warrior indeed.

“Jey-mah,” he breathes.

She finally manages to undo his top completely and straightens to push it over his shoulders. His eyes are shut and his hands hover fearfully at her hips. She’s always been proud of her body and her skills with it, but never so much as she is right now. She slides her own hands down his chest and wraps her fingers in the front of his pants.

“ _Lohme_ ,” she orders again, this time tugging him back with her towards the bed.

His eyes snap open. Heat and want and need pulse through her. Just once, just enough to ask the question.

She knows why. She’s been hot and cold with him in their months together. Add to that his own fears that the masters have made him unlovable and he must wonder if she truly means it. She does. “ _Lohme_.”

He catches her in his arms, falling on her with a poignant relief. She kisses him back gratefully, eager to lose herself in the space between them.

 

 

It’s not until later, when she’s curled into his side and only just barely awake, that she remembers what he is and who she is. She should hate him and hate herself for what she’s let him do, what she’s happily joined him in doing.

She pulls herself more fully atop him, pressing a kiss over his heart before laying her head down there.

She should hate them both, just as she should value the masters’ lives. But she doesn’t.

 


	5. bonfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "bonfire."

He startles her when he speaks. He’s been quiet so long, she thought he’d fallen asleep.

“Was there someone?” he asks, a bit too much weight on the last word. “In your future?”

She told him the truth of herself finally. She was so frightened, worried he’d think differently of her, but he’s still here. He still welcomed her into his bed tonight and he’s still holding her.

But she’d hoped that would be the end of it.

She laces their fingers, letting her arm rest against his beneath her breasts. “There was,” she says, putting her own emphasis on it. He stiffens, knowing what she means. “And there was an almost. I thought we were finally getting somewhere.” She shifts on her back so that she can better see through the smoke hole in the roof of their little hut. The stars are so bright. “Ten years we worked together, and then he finally-” she hesitates; if his language even has a word for dating, she doesn’t yet know it- “we were going to try,” she settles on. “But then-”

She closes her eyes. She hasn’t told him everything yet; let him get used to the idea of her being from the future first before she tells him anything more. _If_ she tells him anything more. There is a part of her that says she can’t interfere in the future - and warning Alveus of his impending banishment will certainly do that.

She’s come to terms with her new reality. If there is a way home from here, it’s unlikely she’ll ever find it. And while she’ll fight the masters alongside Alveus, she still has enough loyalty to her friends and to SHIELD that she can’t quite bring herself to help the founder of HYDRA, the monster who will steal Daisy.

“I went away,” she says. “Unexpectedly. And I met someone else. And he died.”

She’s crying. She isn’t sure whether it’s because, for all Will’s death is ten thousand years away, for her it is still achingly recent or because she’s currently naked in the arms of the man who will one day kill him.

Alveus pulls her closer, pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades. She rolls onto her back with his arm still beneath her. He hasn’t done it yet. He isn’t that man any more than she’s the toddler who colored all over a hundred year old armoire.

“Fitz and I were going to try again,” she says, “but then I was here.” She swallows down her tears. She’ll cry for Will - because she owes him that - but she won’t allow herself to cry for the friends who will still be alive, hopefully long after her disappearance. If she does, she isn’t sure she’ll ever stop.

Alveus’ fingers move up her side, just light enough to make her shiver. “But there was no one …” When he finally finishes, it’s with a word she doesn’t know.

She tips her head, narrowing her eyes and screwing up her nose in the way he knows means she doesn’t understand.

“No one - stable? No one always? Do men and women still join for always?”

She smiles as much at his curiosity as at his butchering of his own language on her behalf. “Yes, they do. And no, there was no one I was joined with.”

He nods and lowers himself to rest his head on her stomach. She toys with his hair and, not for the first time, wonders whether he can feel it or if it really is just hair. She’s attempted experiments on the subject before, but he always turns amorous before she can make any concrete determinations.

They lie in comfortable silence for some time, enough that she wonders if perhaps she nodded off and missed the start of his question when he only asks, “How?”

She hums, confused.

He turns his face towards her, and she doesn’t know what it means that he allows it to become his real one. Whatever the reason, her legs twist as his tentacles brush the sensitive skin of her stomach and chest. She wonders if he realizes what he’s doing.

“How are they joined? Other than the obvious?” Oh yes. He knows. “My people drink the juice of the adolre plant before the great fire, proclaiming our joining before all.”

She grips the sides of his face and pulls him up for a kiss. When she releases him, he remains frozen above her. Even after all these months, he’s still shocked when she doesn’t shy from his other face. “We do that too. Not with the fire or the juice, but we promise ourselves to each other in front of our families and friends.” She curls onto her side again as sleep tugs at her. It’s late and dawn will be here soon. “And we exchange- um.” She hesitates, trying to find the word she wants. “Circles? Of metal. We wear them so everyone can see we’re taken.”

He makes no sound as wraps around her back, but she can feel the vibration of his muted humming run pleasantly through her. This time he allows the silence between them to settle into sleep.

 

+++++

 

He leaves. He tells her he’s going, gives her instructions on what to do if the masters find them, but that he _planned_ to leave doesn’t change how long he’s away for. Days pile on days, life in the village passes - incomprehensibly - without him, and she thinks often of their late night conversation.

Should she have told him what was to come? Have the masters already banished him to Maveth? Is he trapped in hell now, and it’s all her fault because she _could_ have warned him but chose not to?

The fear and worry eat at her for days. She can see the others growing restless as her agitation increases, but none dare ask what’s wrong. She gets the impression, from the way they watch her, that Alveus also gives orders to some of them that she’s to be looked after. But their protection doesn’t change that many of them still fear her either as a goddess or a walking plague, and few of them speak to her with the ease Alveus does. He’s used to her choppy understanding of his language, an unfortunate reality the others don’t know how to reconcile with their larger than life impression of her.

She’s alone. Not the way she was those first weeks on Maveth, but it’s a near thing.

And, worse, she’s afraid. Afraid she’ll never see Alveus again, afraid she’ll never hear his laugh or feel the comfort of his mind brushing against hers. And she’s afraid he’s alone, lost on that alien world, trapped for thousands of years.

Worry robs her of sleep, and she goes about her days more like a zombie than a real person. Which likely doesn’t help the others’ view of her, but she can’t be fussed to care. She wants Alveus _home_ and _safe_.

 

+++++

 

The night he returns, they celebrate a successful hunt. The animal - something she doesn’t recognize in the least and imagines will go extinct sometime soon - has been skinned, and its meat harvested. The men who were injured bringing it down, and who she tended in her melancholy stupor, are recovered enough to sit beside the bonfire at the edge of the village. It’s time for some happiness.

But Jemma has none. Alveus is with her now, yes, but he will leave again and again and, on one of those excursions - perhaps the next, perhaps in the far future - he will be banished to Maveth. It’s _going_ to happen, it’s only a matter of when.

If he wonders at her mood when the others have been so visibly relieve to have him back, he hasn’t asked, for which she’s grateful. She has no idea what she would say if he did.

“You have not asked,” he says, his words so in line with her thoughts that she jumps, “why I left.”

She adjusts her arm where it’s linked with his, pulling herself close to him again. “I assumed it was to lure the masters away from here.” And how that fed her fear. He tries to keep them safe and, in doing so, puts himself in even more danger. He’s tempting fate and he doesn’t even know it.

His arm slips from hers, and he shifts away. She stiffens, cold without him even with the fire burning so close. He fusses with the pouch he wears upon his hip and, when he turns to face her, is holding a circle of iron in his palms. It’s pounded almost paper-thin and is wide as three of her fingers together.

“There is a city,” he says, “two days’ journey from here. There they have masters of metal who aided me… I do not know if it is like those your people exchange.” Fear - so different from her own as to make her heady - and hope wash over her. It’s terribly cliché, but suddenly she cannot breathe for the thick lump in her throat. “I know this is not your home, and I am not what you wanted.” He takes her hand and the touch startles her into meeting his warm eyes. The firelight dances in them, plays across the planes of his face. She can’t help but think of Maveth, where there was no warmth and no cold, no color at all. “My goddess, I know the masters gave us to one another, but I hoped you might give yourself. Willingly.”

“They’re going to imprison you.” The words are out before she knows she means to say them. She grips his hand tightly. “The masters. There’s a- a stone. Big. It turns to- not to water but  _like_ water - and pulls you in, to another world. I don’t know how or when, but they’ll send you there, and you’ll be trapped. Alone. For- for _years_. Years upon years.”

He’s staring, and she’s sure she’s messed it up or confused him or frightened him. Her fingers twist on his hand, trying to hold him to her when she knows he must want to pull away. “I know because I’ve been there. And _you_ were there. You were different. You’d been- been hurt or changed.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know, but it was terrible. It was the worst place I’ve ever been, worse than the infinity room.”

He’s still staring. She has the absurd urge to hit him, as if that will make him understand the impossible things she’s telling him.

“Don’t you understand?” she demands. “You were _there_.” There is no word in his language for the length of time that stands between his birth and hers, but she’s already told him how vast it is, he must understand. “You were still alive. And you were alone.”

She remembers Will’s pain, the way those fourteen years weighed on him. She can’t imagine what thousands of years of isolation will do to Alveus. But then she doesn’t have to, she knows.

His hand tightens suddenly around hers. “You have not yet said whether you will have me.”

All her warnings and fears retreat to the back of her mind and, startled, she looks down at the metal band, still held between them. She’s already made her choice, hasn’t she? She can’t think of the future, whatever it might be. She has to think of _now_ , of her and him and their people to protect.

“Yes,” she says, taking the band. She slips it over her left hand and up her arm until it can go no farther. “Yes, I will have you, but only if you’ll have me too.”

He kisses her and lifts her to her feet. In the light of the great fire, they drink the juice of the adolre plant and proclaim their union before one and all. And, in the quiet of her mind, she promises also that she will save him, she will keep him, no matter the cost. She will not lose anyone else.

 


	6. shiny and new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Safelycapricious prompted a "thigh kiss" for these two. You can probably guess this chapter's nsfw.

He can feel Jemma hovering at the tree line and so allows himself to finally sigh out his disquiet. “Ixi fears me.”

She’s at his back in a heartbeat, arms wrapped around his shoulders in support. It feels wrong. The weight of her on his back, the distance she can reach. It is all wrong. “He needs to get used to it, that’s all.”

He turns on the stone he’s chosen for his seat and she stiffens. Perhaps Ixi is not the only one.

As her hesitation draws out, his anger grows. He rises with a hiss of annoyance, moving away from her. “We should not have-”

“Not have _what_?” she demands in that crisp tone she only adopts when she is truly incensed. “Not have _saved your life_? You were dying, Alveus.”

“And might that not have been better?” There is no anger in his tone, only resignation. Still, she flinches as though he’s struck her and he hates himself for that - hates the masters more for their hand in what has befallen the both of them. “You have told me what I am to become. What I will do to you-”

“You never hurt me,” she says softly, a meager defense.

“What I will do to _Will_.” The name is even more awkward on this tongue than it was before. She has told him about the man she named their firstborn for, who saved her life, who protected her from him in some distant moment in time, and whose body he will take and hollow out as his own.

He looks down at his hands. They are too broad and too dark. Everything about them is wrong. He cannot even look Jemma in the eye as he once did, but looks down on her.

She steps closer to him, plainly trying not to frighten him away. As if he is some mindless animal, quick to terror.

Perhaps he is. This body may be new but there is a part of his soul that still clenches tight around this life, still feels keenly those moments when he was certain he would die. And worse, he can feel the other’s fear. The man who once inhabited this body, there is part of him still here. His hatred of Alveus himself, his agony as Jemma stopped his heart in his chest, it is all within him.

Jemma’s hands slide along his arms and her head tips back that she might meet his eyes. “This isn’t your body, no. But it’s still you.” She lifts first one hand and then the other, dropping kisses to knuckles and palms. And then she lowers them to wrap an arm around his waist. She kisses his chest. And then lower. And lower.

His breath rumbles out of him. “Jemma…”

She is on her knees now. His goddess bringing herself low before him. It is not weakness, it is _love_ , and that is more gift than he will ever deserve.

“I will make it feel like it’s yours,” she promises. The words pressed to his thigh make his knees weak and he struggles to keep his feet as she again moves higher, this time beneath his loincloth.

She keeps her promise, several times, until there is not an inch of this body she has not made her own, and thus made his.

 


End file.
